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The end of things. A pokemon fanfic by Rocko Wallaby

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 9: Judgement Day.

I spent the rest of the night just inside the tree line, in a small, protected clearing I had located a few hundred meters from where the poachers lay. I'd considered trying to retrace my route back to the waterfall camp site immediately but, in the dark, it was clearly going to be impossible, not to mention dangerous. Sleeping so close to the bodies didn't concern me overly, although I was somewhat wary of being surprised by other individuals looking to rejoin their "friends", who had now gone missing so suddenly. No one sought them out that evening. Given lighting a camp fire for warmth was inadvisable, it was also cold, damp and miserable, but the alternatives could have been much worse.

There were two dead humans in the area. I didn't particularly want to make it three, especially if it was my head contributing to the count.

I had searched the area further before retreating to my makeshift camp, but did not find any further equipment belonging to the two poachers. Either they had come out expecting to return to their vehicles, wherever they were, at a later stage, or had a camp themselves beyond my detection. So I wrapped my jacket as snugly around myself as I could, wrapped myself in a thermal blanket (I never left home without one anymore) and waited out the night. Exhausted as I felt, sleep eventually overtook me, and it was only the morning sun streaming through the branches of the trees overhead that finally woke me up the next day.

Getting up was another matter. It felt as though every muscle in my body was rejecting the idea. The adrenalin rush of the previous day, coupled with the long hike and cold night, locked everything up nice and tight. With reluctance, I forced my body into submission, climbing gingerly to my feet, and stretching my limbs to remove some of the stiffness, before gathering my gear in readiness for the long trek back.

After a few minutes relieving myself in the bushes nearby, I cautiously returned to the tree line, scanning the area for any signs of life, before making my way back towards the poachers cold corpses. Nothing had changed there; just 2 dead poachers, and one dead pokemon. Taking one more opportunity to check over the area, again finding nothing further, I began retracing my previous path to my vehicle.

It was late in the day before I made it back home, ducking into the cottage to wash up briefly, before heading to the office to report my findings. It took a while to get through; the radio had been playing up for months now, and while I had received promises to repair it, I'd never been overly concerned until now. In recent months, being out of contact so often was practically soothing. However, it took even longer to discuss the relevant details with HQ staff, and I spent several hours talking to different personnel at HQ, going over and over the relevant information, and forwarding copies of all the documents by fax to them for assessment. Any Ranger action involving the death of a person or pokemon, let alone three, was bound to be tied up in red tape. I knew something was up when, after finally being forwarded to the Sub Captains office, I was put on hold and asked to wait momentarily. Next I knew, I was put through directly to Captain Barklay.

"I was advised of the situation you encountered. In your assessment, Is there a direct link to Sinnotech?", he asked without preamble, never one for mincing his words.

"I believe so, Sir. If the documents can be traced back to them. I really don't know" I replied.

He pondered for a moment, before making a decision. "I have Intel working on them as we're speaking. If we have a chance to get them, it needs to be now. I want you here yesterday, Ranger. Move your ass at first light, and we might have a chance of finally catching these bastards out, once and for all, before they realise they might be compromised, and mask their trail"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good!" he acknowledged, before pausing again. In a slightly softer tone, he said "I know what you've been through, Scott. We've all been worried about you. But it's something you had to deal with, yourself, before you could see any closure. If there is a chance this might work, I'm giving you the opportunity to be in on it, understand? Your choice, but the offer is there if you want it."

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, before replying in a slightly husky voice "I will be there, Sir. Nothing could keep me from that"

He coughed again, sounding slightly embarrassed "Excellent. See you by 1300 tomorrow", before hanging up.

It was a meeting not even death could have kept me from attending.

The trip to Ranger HQ was long, but uneventful. I'd left at first light, negotiating the long trek to the city in the old truck, which looked quite out of place amongst the urban sprawl once we reached civilisation. By 1230, I had made it to the Academy, where I pulled up into the visitor's parking lot, and thought to make my way to grab some lunch at the cafeteria before the meeting commenced.

Before I'd taken a dozen paces, I felt my arm grabbed from behind. "No time for that, Ranger" a curt voice said, "We need that briefing immediately!"

Turning to the person grasping my arm, I stared into the face of Sergeant Donaldson, Captain Barklay's 2IC.

"Is the intel that good?" I asked hopefully, looking him in the eyes.

He smiled broadly, showing more teeth than an ornery growlithe. His answer almost purred in satisfaction. "Oh yes! You'll see", he grinned, before leading me through the maze of buildings to the Intel offices.

The conference meeting Captain Barklay called was the largest organised in Ranger history. Apart from myself, over fifty of the top Ranger members had been called in overnight to discuss the matter. It turned out the documents I had found not only contained information linking the pokemon death to Sinnotech bank accounts, but identified the "poachers" as direct employees of the company, and known confederates of Dr Jameson!

With one pouch of evidence, we had the proverbial goose's golden egg dropped in our laps, and Barklay intended wasting no time procrastinating on it.

Within hours of my forwarding the information to HQ, the Intel team had tracked down each account, each transaction, and the Sinnotech individuals associated with it, and had married it all up to masses of earlier intel they had accumulated over the years, from other sources and investigations. What at first appeared to be simply a large mass of independent data, began to show a coherent web of criminal activity. Some of the documents, at first innocuous seeming to my untrained eye, turned out to be loaded with incriminating evidence against the company, and had even included access passwords casually jotted down at the tops of the papers. Intel was ecstatic, as with these they had instant access into Sinnotech computer networks. When several hours later, the information began to suddenly "disappear" from their systems, it was far, far too late. The damage had been done, and the Rangers had enough evidence to bury the lot of them.

Several hours were spent at the meeting examining and re-examining various scenarios aimed at digging the culprits out of their lair. Some argued that an indirect approach, using the judicial system, would have the greatest chance of success. Personally, I was all for the direct "shoot first, shoot lots, ask later" option. With the debate raging back and forward, with a bang, Captain Barklay slammed his hand on the podium, and made the choice for us.

"Rangers, these individuals have avoided justice for over a decade. Their casual disregard for the rights of others, coupled with their blatant attempts to circumvent all our laws, has been a slap in the face for our inadequate legal system, not to mention the Rangers in general."

He gripped the podium with both hands, leaning forward to stare at us intently.

"The actions of these scumbags resulted in the death of seven of our best Rangers that night, 12 months ago. Since then, we've been on the back foot trying to discover an opening in their organisation, and at each and every turn, they've thwarted our actions. Intel has serious suspicions that the explosion that killed so many of us last year was a deliberate, malicious attempt to discredit the Rangers, and disrupt our investigations. While a terrible tragedy for us, I'm glad to say, they failed in this, and seriously misjudged our determination"

"This time, we're ready for them. Thanks to the new information that came to light yesterday, we now have the means to take the fight to THEM!"

With this, he thrust his arm into the air in a victorious salute, and the Rangers present drowned out any further response with a combined, almighty cheer of their own!

I'd like to say that things proceeded at a blistering pace from that moment onwards, but that'd be subjective. Rangers, in particular, prefer their planning to be meticulous. Unlike the fiasco 12 months earlier, this time things were going to go OUR way, and no one wanted any further lives lost in the process, especially in a repeat of last year's fiasco.

Still, in less than 12 hours, the basics had been organised. A communications blackout at HQ from the moment the Rangers conference commenced had ensured no hint of our preparations had escaped the facility, and no punches had been pulled in getting everything set up in the time frame needed.

Over forty Rangers were to be involved, with backup staff at the ready. This time, we were both heavily armed, and more heavily armoured, with serious body protection and equipment mandatory. Unlike last time, there would be no contact with authorities until after the raid commenced, and the building was secure. Especially given the suspicion that it had been a government informant leeching the information to Sinnotech, resulting in the lethal surprise they had for us.

Even our transport to the scene was unique. We used school buses.

Big, yellow, and ludicrously ordinary school buses.

With the raid planned for 7.30am, and it being a week day during the school year, it was thought to be the perfect method to blend into the background, and keep any chance of our activities being noticed to a minimum.

Although the video that later made the rounds, showing forty heavily equipped Rangers climbing into school buses, was always a source of vast amusement for all.

The raid had been planned meticulously. We were ready; much more so than twelve months earlier.

This time, nothing was to left to chance. Nothing was supposed to go wrong.

_____________________________________________________________

After the explosion, I was released from the Ranger hospital after 2 weeks recuperation, still battered and sore, but pronounced physically recovered. Emotionally, however, I was a mess.

They initially wanted to return me to EP, but I wanted nothing of that. I didn't particularly want much of anything, to be honest.

Instead, they placed me in graduate initiation at the Academy. Nominally to give me time to settle, but more to clandestinely monitor my mental state. While I tried, my heart just wasn't in it. My "give a fuck factor" had hit zero two weeks earlier, and nothing seemed to have much point anymore. After receiving several rebukes for my overly critical attitude towards the new recruits, I went again to personnel, asking for an isolated posting, away from the main HQ, where I could clear my head in private. The spot where we'd done our wilderness training in the mountains was currently unattended by a Ranger, since the retirement of it's former occupant, and seemed perfect for my needs

At first, they were reluctant, thinking I was a risk for harming myself. At the time, they were probably justified in that.

However, my ongoing persistence eventually achieved something, as I was brought before Captain Barklay for "evaluation"

He took one look at me, sitting straight in my chair, and gave a grunt. "You're not thinking of doing something stupid, are you, Ranger?" he asked roughly.

"Sir?" I replied.

"I think you know what I mean, Scott"

Yes, I did know exactly what he meant. However, regardless of the "other" alternatives, I was a Ranger, and I still had a job to do.

"Yes Sir, I know what you mean. No, that isn't my style, Sir"

He gave another grunt, and returned to scanning my file on his desk, and sighing, eyeing me grimly.

"OK, Ranger, you have your wish. You have twelve months in the mountains, at the journeyman post you had during your training."

He put his hands on the desk before him, forming an apex with his fingers, before staring at me over them.

De ja vu; just like at our first interview.

"Don't disappoint me, Ranger. In twelve months, I expect you back here, doing your real job. Understood?"

I understood, absolutely. So I left without questioning it further.

Continued in Chapter 10: The end of things.